


All The Good Girls Go To Hell

by khalisey



Series: All The Good Girls Go To Hell [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cockwarming, Consensual Amateur Pornography, Cum Eating, Daddy Kink, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Double Entendre, F/M, Face-Fucking, Masturbation, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Overstimulation, Reader is 18, Rough Sex, Sammy Being A Deviant, Sexting, Size Difference, Size Kink, Sloppy Seconds, Spitroasting, Step-Uncle Dean Winchester, Step-Uncle/Step-Niece Relationship, Step-parent Sam Winchester, Stepfather/Stepdaughter Relationship, Threesomes, Throat Fucking, Voyeurism, cream pies, dean's filthy mouth, thigh riding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26774140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/khalisey/pseuds/khalisey
Summary: When Sam marries into Y/N’s family he naively believes she’s a little princess incapable of putting a step wrong. But once he comes face to face with evidence that proves she’s far from angelic which also implicates his own brother in her misdeeds, Sam finds himself battling against his own moral judgement.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester/You, Dean Winchester/You, Sam Winchester/Reader, Sam Winchester/You
Series: All The Good Girls Go To Hell [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951864
Comments: 26
Kudos: 181





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I've written a bunch of step-family fics before but never thought to expand it to the Winchesters... until now.  
> Just a note: I have marked this as “underage” however reader _is_ of legal consent (18).

Pulling your key from the lock, you attempt to shut the front door behind you as quietly as you can so not to draw any attention to yourself. A crappy AT&T commercial blares from the TV in the lounge and you’re thankful for the noise absorbing your footsteps on the laminate.

You’re inches from the staircase, seconds from being home and dry when you hear your step dad's deep voice call out from behind you. “Hey, where’ve you been? It’s late.”

Turning on your heel, you spin round to face him. Clearly it’s been another tough day at the office as Sam’s still dressed in his suit, albeit more creased now than it was when he left for work this morning. Hands shoved in his pockets and sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the prominence of his thick, veiny forearms makes you swallow thickly.

The sight wouldn’t usually bother you, but there’s something about Sam that causes your thighs to clench and with three of the buttons on his shirt popped, the small patch of hair dusting his broad, tanned chest poking out from underneath you find your breath catching in your throat.

“So—sorry,” you start shifting nervously from one foot to the other, afraid Sam will see straight through your facade, “study group ran later than I expected.”

His eyes narrow, scrutinising you momentarily. “Where are your books?”

_ Shit. Think, think, think. _

“Um, oh, I left them at Janey’s. Going to study with her again tomorrow, got a big test at the end of the week.”

_ It shouldn’t be this easy to lie. Or this fun. _

His features drop into a soft smile, seemingly satisfied with your excuse. _ Jeez, for a lawyer he sure is dumb. _ “I see,” he sighs. “Well, you better get to bed. Your mom asked me to drop you off at school tomorrow, but I need to be at the office early.”

“Oh… okay,” you nod awkwardly. The thought of being confined to a vehicle with him when he’s all smartly dressed and smelling like masculinity personified causes your pussy to tingle more than it already is. “Night then,” you add and slowly begin to ascend the stairs.

Sam bids you goodnight, but he makes no attempt to move and you know that from the spot he’s stood in he’ll be able to see right up your skirt.

-

Expecting Sam to call you back down at any moment, you climb the stairs faster than normal causing the cum still tacky on your thighs to stick and unpeel with every movement. You finally reach your room and slam the door behind you, your heartbeat racing at a million times a minute as you slump against it.

Your focus is drawn to the dusky pink colour of your walls and the barely-pubescent theme that flows through the room - it suddenly feels too childish… too  _ innocent _ to be yours. Your bed’s never looked more inviting as you stumble towards it and past your desk, the books you were meant to be studying with still sat in the same position you left them in to gather dust.

You start to tug at your clothes, desperate to undress and climb under the covers as your cell pings in the pocket of your hoodie. Pulling it out, a familiar name pops up on the screen along with their message and a photo attached.

Hesitantly you open it, a small smirk pulling at the corners of your lips despite the chagrin flooding your veins. It’s a close up of his face - two fingers shoved between his lips, the hollow of his cheeks indicative of him heartily sucking down on them. The image conjures up a thousand depraved thoughts; choking on his cock, your own cheeks dimpling around him followed by his hands deftly stripping you of your panties before those very same fingers slipped between your thighs, ripping orgasm after orgasm from your pussy.

**> Already missing that tight little cunt baby girl x**

Heat starts to curl in the pit of your belly as you debate what to reply, typing and deleting a hundred sentences until you settle on one and press send before you can regret it.

< _ Miss you too Uncle Dean x _


	2. Chapter 2

Sam Winchester married into the family a little over two years ago just after your sixteenth birthday. You hadn’t expected to like him so much, but he was kind, polite, spoilt your mom and treated you and your younger brother, Bobby, like adults right from the start. You enjoyed having him around, but he couldn’t compete with the attention you got from his older brother, Dean, the moment you turned eighteen.

Because Dean, on the other hand, was constantly inappropriate with you. Making sly remarks about the way you were dressed - _“if that skirt were any higher, princess”,_ giving you longing looks across the dinner table when he’d invite himself over, purposely let you overhear his phone calls with friends as he explained, in detail, his latest fuck from the night before. At first it made you uncomfortable, but after a while you started to lap up the attention he gave you.

While Sam was the father figure and disciplinarian of the family, Dean was the cool uncle who would teach Bobby to drive in his badass Impala or sneak you beer. For Bobby, “uncle” was a term of endearment, but for you it had a very different set of connotations.

At first Dean’s apartment was just somewhere to blow off steam after an argument with Sam when he wouldn’t let you go out on a school night, but as time went on things escalated - starting with a drunken kiss that was practically his fault anyway.

He’d dropped you off at a party wound up tighter than a bedspring. The entire journey he kept accidentally brushing your thigh as he found an excuse to mess with the dashboard - first it was a speck of dust he just couldn’t seem to shift until he was practically reaching across to the glove compartment to find out a cassette that you couldn’t seem to place. Part of you believed it didn’t really exist, Dean just using the opportunity to touch you even if it meant crashing into the sidewalk in the process. He made comments about how many boys you were gonna let up your skirt and by the time you got there, you couldn’t wait to get out of the car. You didn’t want just any boy - you wanted a man. You wanted _Dean_.

He was the one to collect you in the early hours of the next morning, stumbling as you made your way back to the car. After the beer he’d bought for you had run out, someone whipped out a bottle of tequila and you spent the night necking shot after shot to try and get Dean off your mind. It didn’t help. It merely exacerbated your feelings and made you miserable, unable to enjoy the party.

It wasn’t until he pulled up to the curb outside your house that you leant over and kissed him hungrily, sucking his bottom lip up between your teeth. You were too drunk to care if he pulled away and for a moment he tried, but as soon as his instincts took over, he grabbed the back of your head and kissed you back even harder.

He started texting you the next evening. Innocently checking in at first - curious to see how much you were suffering from the inevitable tequila hangover and how much shit you were in with Sam and your mom once they figured out their little goody two shoes had been drinking, but the more you exchanged messages, the flirtier he got and the subject shifted to the kiss and what might’ve been.

**> Wish you hadn’t been so drunk x**

_ < Why’s that? x _

**> Would’ve loved to see you squirming on my cock in that slutty little dress you were wearing x**

It had been so brash, so upfront. Dean’s charm won you over in an instant and you fed into his hands like prey succumbing to a predator.

Only a week passed before you met up with him in private and the once sweet, tender kisses eventually evolved into second base. That soon led to third and before you knew it, “Uncle” Dean was slipping between your thighs, snatching away your virginity.

Tonight is no exception. For the past five weeks, studying at your best friend’s house was your go-to alibi, but with a lawyer for your stepfather you know that’s only going to get you so far.

-

The leather of Sam’s car seats cling all too familiarly to the backs of your bare thighs, reminding you of the countless times Dean had fucked you in the back of his Impala. You shift awkwardly trying to rearrange your skirt as Sam climbs into the seat next to you, eyeing your legs discreetly. 

“You okay?” He asks, shrugging off his suit jacket and your eyes are immediately drawn to the tightness of his shirt around his biceps, straining against the cotton. 

“Yeah, um, seats are just hot.” You aren’t lying, the leather _is_ prickly against your skin so the cover up isn’t entirely false, but you exaggerate your movements almost to show Sam you really mean it. 

He lets out a soft chuckle, peering out of the windscreen. “Yeah, it can get pretty sticky in here when it’s so damn hot out.” 

_Sticky._

The word instantly takes you back to last night and the clamminess of your thighs, still damp with Dean’s cum. It didn’t matter that you’d showered last night and again this morning to make yourself clean, you could still feel him on your skin, almost like an invisible brand to stake his claim over you. 

“Here, this might help,” Sam adds, pressing a button on the dash. The AC immediately floods the car, cold air blasting into your face. It does what it can to cool you, however much to your dismay, it also manages to waft Sam’s woody aftershave under your nose which just seems to magnify the heat pooling between your thighs.

“Thanks,” you choke back. 

_This car ride is gonna suck._

You never saw Sam in that light until Dean pointed out that his eyes always seemed to linger on you. Or how when Sam came to discipline you always managed to escape lightly whereas Bobby usually found himself losing his Xbox privileges or being grounded for a week. 

“Sammy’s soft on you, princess,” Dean would whisper in your ear as his fingers danced up your thighs. Sometimes his idea of dirty talk would consist of all the ways he imagined Sam wanted to fuck you. “I see how he stares at you when you don’t see him looking. I know my little brother, baby girl, I know he wants a taste of this sweet little pussy and it’s killing him that he can’t.” 

How could you believe that? Sam was happily married… to your mom, of all people. You had to admit that it turned you on when he spoke like that, but to you it was just a fantasy. But the more Dean brought it up, the more you dwelled on it and started to notice the little things he had been pointing out.

Like last night for example. Before Dean planted such lewd thoughts in your brain, you wouldn’t have thought anything of the way Sam’s eyes seemed to widen at the sight of you with freshly fucked hair and clothes in too much of a disarray to have been coming home from a study session. But you could practically feel his gaze piercing your skin, completely unbeknownst to him that his brother’s cum was still hot and wet in your womb. 

And even though Dean had made you cum more times than you could count, you still found your fingers travelling south as you crawled into bed, frantic to climax the ache out of your swollen clit, imagining Sam’s tongue lapping up your slick with a euphoric hum. 

Sam’s deep humming to an old song on the radio taunts you as it forces you from your reverie, hopelessly relieved as he pulls up outside school, the grounds practically deserted this early in the morning. You’re grateful for the fact, not in the mood to have your gaggle of girlfriends desperate for a peak at your “hot stepdad.”

Grabbing your rucksack, you quickly open the door and begin to step out before the sound of his voice stops you. “Don’t have too much fun tonight,” he laughs with a hint of sarcasm. “And don’t be too late home, y’know how your mom worries.” 

_He means how_ he _worries._

For a second you’re confused before you remember the lie you had spun for him the night before - _study group._ “Oh… yeah, I’ll try my best, Janey really wants a good grade though so I wouldn’t be surprised if she tried to keep me there all night,” you snicker, trying to play up the deception.

_And what you really mean is Dean won’t let you leave until he’s fucked you so hard it hurts to keep your legs together._

“Okay, well, be safe,” Sam replies softly as you finally climb from the car, noticing that his gaze seems to loiter on your thighs for a little too long before moving up to your face, that gorgeous dimpled smile beaming up at you. “And have a good day.” 

“Mhm whatever,” you shrug returning his smile with a half-hearted one, trying your best to block out the thoughts of clambering into his lap and letting him fuck you right there in the driver’s seat. You slam the door behind you and make your way towards the school, pent up with enough sexual frustration to know that today was going to be far from a good one.


	3. Chapter 3

“Shit baby, you’re gonna make your Uncle Dean cum if you keep doing that,” Dean hisses through his teeth, hand pressed flat against the back of your head. 

You keep sucking unsure if you should stop, but the husky groans tumbling from Dean’s mouth is enough stimulus for you to keep going. His fingers tighten around your skull and for a minute you think he’s going to blow his load until he pulls you off by a clump of your hair as saliva dribbles down your chin. He smirks down at you, lips damp and slightly parted while his eyes are almost obsidian with lust. 

His thumb sweeps over your bottom lip, tacky with his pre-cum. “C’mon princess, get that tight little pussy up here and lemme fill it.”

You push yourself to your feet and climb into his lap, ass raised until he gives it a little slap to force you to sink down on his waiting length. No matter how many times you have Dean inside you, this first fill always takes your breath away, your walls yet to manipulate to the shape of his cock. 

Dean holds you close, hands splayed across your shoulder blades as his hips begin to snap and moans soon bleed from your lips onto his. He fucks you hard and deep, his mouth matching the bruising force his cock sets. 

Dropping his hands to your hips, he manoeuvres you a little so you can prop your hands against the meat of his thighs as you arch your back, breasts now at eye level. He sucks his bottom lip between his teeth with a wicked grin, clearly enjoying the view in front of him, a hum oozing from his lips. 

“Mm, look at ya bouncin’ on my cock baby girl. Always so ready to fuck your Uncle Dean aren’t ya?” 

You angle your stare between your conjoined bodies, watching his thick length disappear inside you and each time he pulls out, your essence is slathered over his inches.

“Ye—yes, always so ready for you,” you repeat back to him, knowing it’s exactly what he wants to hear. It’s not a lie - every time he so much as glances at you, your panties dampen, but that’s also true for Sam. Any time the two brothers were in the same room together with you, you’d find yourself on the verge of spontaneously combusting. 

“Imagine if your daddy caught us right now, your little pussy all stretched and full of your uncle’s cock,” Dean grunts, his eyes continuously flickering between your face and the sight between your legs. “Sammy wouldn’t be able to stop himself.”

You still don’t understand why he wants talk about his own brother fucking you or why he’s so obsessed with the idea, but all you can focus on is the increase in speed of his hips, each frantic pound of his cock, edging you closer to your peak. A particular hard thrust makes your eyes flutter closed and your mind conjures up the image of Sam watching from the corner of the room as Dean nails you, his thick cock fully hard in his fist. The fantasy spurs you on, making you bounce harder in Dean’s lap as you imagine Sam now at the side of you, hooded eyes staring down at you, dick coated in a thin layer of pre-cum and begging to be sucked. 

You visualise opening your mouth, feeling him stretch your jaw open until it begins to ache from the heft of his length and can vividly picture Sam sneering down at you. 

Dean’s thumb roughly comes in contact with your clit, his deep voice right on the edge of your periphery, imagining it imbued with the sound of Sam’s, full of disapproval and contempt.  _ “So desperate to get your holes filled, aren’t you little girl? Such a filthy slut.” _

You fracture in Dean’s grasp, the sheer weight and force of your orgasm enough to knock you back to reality. He fucks you through it, euphoria flooding your veins until you can barely stand it. His name rolls across your tongue interspersing among expletives before your voice loses all weight and volume, gasps now escaping from your wet, parted lips in silence. 

As it subsides, your eyes slowly flicker open to be met with Dean’s smirking face. All imagery of Sam has melted back into the recesses of your mind, but a hint of memory still lingers as Dean manipulates you onto all fours, far from finished with you.

-

The house is bathed in darkness when Dean drops you off at the end of the street later than evening - far later than you think you can still feasibly use the “ _ we were studying so hard, we just lost track of time _ ” excuse and they’d buy it. Sam may be ‘soft’ on you and allow you the freedoms and excuses Bobby doesn’t get, but even he would see right through your duplicity this time. 

You manage to get into the house, lock up, sneak across the hall to the stairs before you’re caught; Sam’s bulky frame filling the kitchen doorway, now soaked in dim light. 

“Study group that much fun, huh?” He inquires, folding his arms across his chest. Dressed in a black v-neck and loose fitting grey sweatpants, you know you’ve either disturbed him from sleep or he’s been waiting for you. Material clings to every muscle in his chiselled torso and you desperately avert your gaze just to stop yourself from staring, the sight reminding you of the licentious fantasies you had of the man standing before you while his own brother fucked you limp.

“Bundles,” you answer, sarcasm practically dripping from your tongue as you fake a yawn which forces out a real one, your body exhausted from your evening with Dean. “Well… goodnight.” You sleepily hang your bag over the bannister and begin to climb the stairs before Sam’s voice stops you in your tracks.

“I called Janey’s house tonight, spoke to her mom.”

Your body goes cold and rigid, freezing you to the spot and in an attempt to try to keep your features free of fear, you flash him a light, airy smile. “Oh?”

“She told me you weren’t there, haven’t been there in weeks.” 

_ Fuck. C’mon keep it cool, blase.  _ Dean’s voice reverberates inside your brain.  _ ”Sammy’s soft on you, princess. You can get away with anything around him, I mean you could probably suck my cock in front of him and he’d damn well praise you for it.”  _

“Nah, she’s gotta be mistaken, y’know how she drinks,” you scoff, bringing your hand up to your mouth to wave him off nonchalantly as you turn back to the stairs.

“Get back here Y/N,” Sam orders in a voice so deep, you can feel it vibrate right down to your core. You rotate slowly, realising he’s not convinced. You can tell in his darkened stare that he sees right through your lies. 

He spins on his heel, grabs something hidden from view and turns back clutching your stack of books, still caked in a layer of dust. “Funny how you can study so thoroughly and so late without _ these _ .”

The moisture in your mouth drains as if you’ve just swallowed cotton wool and the saliva that remains is claggy in your throat. You hurriedly try to think up a solution, a reason as to why they would be here instead of where you told him they  _ would _ be, but you can’t think of one. 

Sam strides across the hall towards you, almost throwing the books onto the lowest step and you daren’t move, not after the way he’s just rebuked you, but as he comes to stand at the bottom of the stairs he gives you the sort of glare that doesn’t need words to accompany it. You slowly slink down the steps, afraid to reach him when he looks this pissed off. Dean was right, you  _ never _ saw this side of Sam. 

He literally towers over you, the breadth of his torso twice the size of yours. “Who is he?” 

“Wh—who says I’m seeing anyone?” You squeak.

“Don’t insult me. I’ve noticed the slutty clothes you’ve been wearing recently, hell even  _ Dean’s _ picked up on it.”  _ Dean? What the fuck?  _ “You gotta be impressing someone dressed like that.” His eyes drag down your body slowly, lips slightly parted with his tongue tucked neatly behind his teeth.

“So what if I am? It’s hardly any of your business.” 

He sucks in a deep breath, shifting closer and you start to feel intimidated by his size. “It is while you live under my fucking roof,” Sam seethes. You’ve only heard him swear a handful of times, each occasion usually aimed at Bobby, so while the expletive initially takes you by surprise, you find yourself gritting your teeth in ire. You really don’t like being spoken to like a child. 

“Fine,” you huff. “Can I go now or d’you wanna come watch me change in case my pyjamas are too slutty too?”

You’re pinned up against the wall before you know it, Sam’s hard chest pressed tight across yours. His hand lays just below the column of your throat, his thumb pressed tight over your pulse point. He’s so close you could easily just tilt your head up and kiss him. He stares down at you, lips twisted into a sneer. 

“You don’t wanna push me sweetheart, you wouldn’t like what happens next,” he warns deeply, the velvety husk in his voice travelling straight down to your cunt and settles there uncomfortably. God, you’d do anything to push him to his limit right now and find out  _ exactly _ what happens next.

“Sam, you okay? Y/N home yet?” Your mom calls out sleepily from upstairs, followed thickly by a yawn. You watch him visibly jolt at the sound of her voice, but his hands stay on you when he realises she’s still at the top of the landing out of view. 

He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he shouts up to her, the lie rolling off his tongue without hesitation. “Nah, not yet, but she’s gonna be in big trouble when she does.” 

“Sure she will honey.” You hear her scoff with a soft laugh under her breath as she shuffles back to her room. Even she knows that he’s incapable of disciplining you properly. 

“Big trouble huh?” You whisper softly, licking your lips as you angle your head up further to try and tempt him to kiss you.

Sam waits until the familiar sound of the door clicking shut before he moves away, finally letting you go. Cold air swirls around you, replacing the heat Sam’s body had left. 

“Go to bed.” 

You do as he says and slowly traipse up the stairs. It’s not until you reach the landing that you notice in the wall mirror hanging in front of you, Sam’s stood exactly where you left him, a look of pure unadulterated lust straining against his features.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter absolutely got away from me and I'm not even sorry.

In the days following, Sam barely registered your presence. You walked into a room, he left. You spoke to him, he would change the subject and direct his conversation elsewhere. You tried to make eye contact, he would look right through you as if you were a ghost. This time you’d pushed him into a mood so foul he acted like you didn’t even exist.

Everyone around you noticed. Bobby relished in the fact you were in “deep shit” for once and your mom somehow looked at you differently. If Sam, of all people, was upset with you then you had to have pushed the boundaries a little too far if he was willing to turn against you.

You started trying harder. Anything to make him register your presence; dressing more provocatively, even more so than before, dropping things on purpose so you’d have the excuse to bend over in front of him. You could tell it was having the desired effect, amused when you’d catch Sam bristling at the sight of your barely-dressed ass right in his face.

-

You thought you were winning, chipping away at his resolve, until the sound of his deep, husky moans wake you in the early hours of Friday morning. At first you think he’s just working out, the spare room he had converted into a home gym just down the hall, but the dull thud of a headboard clattering against the wall tells you that’s not the case.

You lay there listening for a while, fingers pressed firm between your legs, but as your mom’s over the top whines start to intersperse with Sam’s grunts, you roll to your side in a huff, shoving your pillow over your head to try and blot out the noise, a wave of jealousy thick in your chest.  You can’t remember how long you’re kept awake by the noise or the last time you even heard them going at it - Sam is usually embarrassed just by kissing your mom in public - but as you wake to the sun rising later that morning, you realise you must’ve fallen asleep eventually.

You’re in such a shitty mood as you dress for the day, still groggy from the rude awakening across the hall. Little do you know, your bad mood is about to get worse.

The first thing you hear as you trundle downstairs is your mom calling out to Sam to remind him that Bobby has soccer practice after school and not to worry about collecting him as she would do it. He mumbles a reply you can’t quite make out as the door clicks closed behind your mom leaving and the house plummets back into silence.

Great. You were hoping to catch a ride with her, not feeling jovial enough to be surrounded by your classmates this morning. You just wanted some peace and quiet, knowing your mom would allow you that if you asked politely. Guess you’d have to try and ask Sam to drop you off even though it’s unlikely he’ll even acknowledge you.

Rounding the corner to the kitchen, you meet with Sam’s giant frame hunched over the kitchen island, sipping on a smoothie as he thumbs through what you assume are case files from the mess of papers covering the worktop.

He’s dressed in his usual office attire, but you notice that, somehow, his trousers seem to fit a little tighter around his legs and the shirt can barely contain his biceps. God, he looks fucking good. It’s minute, but you notice him stiffen as you enter and reach for a cinnamon bagel from the packet left open at the end of the counter.

You don’t attempt any tricks or try to drop the bread on the floor to pick up, you simply busy yourself, cutting it in half and shoving it in the toaster. Turning on the spot where you stand, you lean back against the counter, arms folded across your chest as you wait for your bagel to pop up.

You watch Sam for a minute or two before he realises and clears his throat awkwardly before turning away to pack away his briefcase.

Taking a deep breath, you memorise what you want to say. Time to bite the bullet. “Could you drive me to school today?”

Silence. You’re about to give up and storm from the room, your bad mood slowly exacerbating as the seconds roll by when the unexpected happens.

“Can’t. Have work early,” he replies abruptly without even having the gall to look at you.

You balk at the sharpness in his tone, but manage to hide the surprise in your voice. “That’s alright, I can use the extra time to study in the library.”

“Sure,  _ study _ ,” he scoffs. “Just get the bus with your brother.”

“You could just take me now—“

“Y/N,” he cuts you off, finally spinning around to face you, his cheeks flush with ire, “catch the damn bus.”

Picking up his briefcase hurriedly, he storms out door slamming loudly behind him. What an asshole.

Gritting your teeth, you pull out your cell and send a text.

_ < Can you give me a ride to school? x _

To your surprise, a reply pings back only seconds later. You weren't expecting Dean to be awake so early.

**> Only if you ride my dick after ;) x**

-

That night is movie night. A tradition Sam wanted you to have as a family every Friday evening and one you used to enjoy until he began his silent treatment. You’re curled up on the couch, legs curled underneath you as you mindlessly text Janey about some childish schoolyard drama you have zero interest in. Your brain is too preoccupied with Sam and your mom cuddled up on the other couch just a little way across the room. Bobby lays on the beanbag at their feet, already halfway through a bowl of popcorn that’s meant to be shared between the four of you, but you doubt you’ll get a look in by the time he’s finished filling himself up on it.

They’re all casually talking amongst each other, about what you don’t know, but you keep to yourself not wanting to engage. Sam chuckles at something Bobby says and while the sound makes your cunt pulse, your blood boils right along with it. You’re still mad at Sam for snapping at you this morning, almost wishing now that he had just continued to ignore you, his terse attitude leaving a bitter taste in your mouth. Janey picked up on your sour mood the moment you turned up for first period and Dean even mentioned it, but not until  _ after _ you brazenly sucked his cock in the school parking lot.

You’re in the middle of composing your latest text to Janey and another pings as you type.

Speak of the devil.

**> Fuck. What I’d give to sink my cock into that dripping pussy right now... x**

You smirk to yourself, reminded of the semi-naked picture you’d sent to him early as reprieve for not being able to see him tonight. Eyes wandering back up to the photo in question, even you have to admit to yourself you look pretty hot. You’re bent over your bed, floor length mirror behind you, angled perfectly to capture your bare lower half, legs apart to show off your cunt reflecting back at you.

An idea hits you like lightning.

Opening up the thread of old messages, you quickly select the photo you sent to Dean and a thumbnail of it loads in the space where text belongs. Your thumb hovers over the send button for a moment, Sam’s laughter pulling you from your reverie and you look towards him, his dimpled smile making your belly roll.

Now or never.

You hit send and wait.

Watching out of the corner of your eye, Sam pulls his cell from his pocket, your message clearly delivered. His jaw tightens at what you presume is the sight of your name and the promise of a photo attached. He coughs uncomfortably, shifting from his place as your mom questions him.

“Where you going? Movie’s just about to start.”

“Sorry honey, work problem. Won’t even be two minutes,” he explains, skirting for the door.

He’s true to his word, returning less than a minute later, but his face is drained of colour like he’s just seen a ghost. You glance down at your cell, smirking as your eyes catch the tiny read receipt below telling you:  _ read 19:34. _

-

The entire movie Sam can’t sit still, constantly fidgeting as he tries to find a comfortable position, covertly pulling at his pants to relieve what you can only imagine is a sudden rush of unwanted blood to his crotch. Your mom reprimands him a few times until she gives up and comes to sit next to you, cuddling up against your arm. The message has gotten under his skin and all you can do is grin as the events of the movie unfold.

_ Now _ you’re winning.

-

Movie night long since over, it’s past one am when you crawl into bed, spending the last couple of hours sending messages back and forth to Dean. You enjoyed it as always, but the sexting had left you feeling more frustrated than ever, despite the fact you told him you came, your mind not where you were expecting it to be. Your mind was on Sam.

Desperate for sleep, you close your eyes just as a small, hesitant knock comes at the door, startling you from your daze.

“Come in,” you squeak and the door opens, Sam slowly appearing from behind it.

“Can we talk?”

You’re a little taken aback as you sit up, pulling your knees up to your chest beneath your quilt. You nod. “Sure.” At your behest he edges into the room, closing the door behind him quietly and steps towards your bed. “What do you wanna talk—“

“This,” he cuts you off again, holding up his cell and that photo of you is staring back, clear as day.

“How did you get that?” You feign surprise as he quickly shuts the screen off and drops the phone onto your bed.

“You sent it to me.”

“No, I didn’t...” you pause for dramatic affect, acting as if you’re slowly putting two and two together, “oh my god shit, I didn’t... I mean, I meant to send it to—“

“... somebody else?”

“Yes,” you reply, coy and embarrassed.

“A boy in your class?” You nod in silence. “Do you know how dangerous this sort of picture can be if it falls into the wrong hands? Boys will think they can take what they want from you.”

You shrug. “I don’t care what they think.”

Sam sighs deeply, perching himself on the edge of your bed. His sweats ride up, leaving nothing to the imagination. “What happened to you? The sweet, shy little girl I met four years ago, huh? She’d never lie to me, never send lewd photos or parade around the house in practically next to nothing...” he trails off.

So he had noticed.

Your chest swells a little, an odd sense of pride swimming through your veins as Dean’s voice drifts into your head.  _ “Bet he aches for these pretty little lips to wrap around his cock, baby girl, ‘cause he sure ain’t getting his pipes cleaned by your momma.” _

Sam’s gaze hesitantly catches yours, the way his sentence lingers in the air makes an idea spark your interest. You climb out of bed, feet landing on the pink shaggy carpet and pad the two steps towards Sam, coming to a halt between his legs.

“What are you doing?” He asks, eyes furrowed in confusion.

“Showing you I’m not a little girl anymore.”

You drop to your knees in front of him, hands sliding up his thighs until they reach the waistband of his sweats. Manipulating the elastic out of your way, you’re a hair's breadth away from grabbing his cock as Sam reacts, yanking you upright by the wrists and pulls you against him.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he huffs through gritted teeth.

“Why? ‘Cause my mom doesn’t?” You tease, leaning forward and graze your lips against his ever so delicately. “Lemme suck your cock Daddy, I promise it’ll feel so good.”

Sam groans deeply and you think for a second he’s going to kiss you, but instead he lets your wrists drop into his lap and brings a hand up, curling it around the base of your skull. He pushes you down to your knees, wordlessly granting you permission.

Sinking to the carpet you resume your position, reaching inside his sweats and finally wrap your hand around his huge length, pulling it free. The sheer weight and size of it makes you blanch, but as you feel Sam’s hand sliding up into your hair, tugging slightly at the roots, that odd feeling of pride returns, so you dip your head lower and slowly begin to suck.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Italics are flashbacks and I think this might be my favourite chapter to date. Enjoy :) :) :)

If you thought Sam was avoiding you before, it’s nothing compared to the brush off he gives you the next morning. You’re practically excluded from the conversation he’s in the midst of with Bobby, some video game nonsense no doubt, but you hope Sam would at least make eye contact with you as you sit down at the table opposite him.

Ha, hope is futile. The man won’t be able to look at you ever again after you spent the night sucking his cock dry.

Taking a large gulp of freshly squeezed orange juice, you relish in the cold sharpness cleansing your palate, but as you swallow the overwhelming taste of Sam’s release still clings thickly to the back of your throat, remembering how goddamn hot he sounded with your name bleeding from his lips as he came.

_ Your head bobs slowly at first, taking the time to accustom yourself to every inch that slides past your lips. Sam’s groans are small, sporadic as you lick up his shaft, swirling your tongue over the leaky tip. Hand still wrapped around the back of your neck, Sam holds you in place - a silent demand to make sure you don’t dare stop what you’re doing. You’re almost frightened to make a wrong move, unaware of what can make Sam writhe in delight because despite the fact you’ve spent the last few months perfecting your blow job skills on his brother, you’re still incredibly inexperienced. Dean was always vocal in telling you what he liked, what he wanted more of, how when you licked that particular vein running up the underside of his cock he was ready to “blow his fuckin’ load.” _

_ “Shit,” Sam hisses, your lips puckering around the dome of his cock as you slowly work your way back down his shaft. Your hand looks tiny in comparison against the heft of his length, curled around the base so for whatever your mouth can’t cover, your fingers can pick up the slack. _

_ His hand shifts to the back of your head, fingernails digging hard into your skull as your rhythm starts to intensify. “Fuck, right there, Y/N.” _

“Y/N sweetie, you okay?” Your mom’s voice cuts right through your thoughts. You blink quickly, desperate to remove the lingering image of Sam’s cock still ingrained in your memory in case she can somehow inexplicably read your mind.

“Um yeah, fine,” you answer, eyes flickering towards Sam before looking up at her with a half-hearted smile. He still refuses to meet your gaze, instead choosing to keep his head down as he reads over a cluster of papers.

“Do you want to join us?” She asks sweetly.

“Join you?” Your brow furrows in confusion.

“We’re going hiking up into the woods today, thought you might like to come with us.”

“Audrey honey, she’s not gonna want to come,” Sam intercedes without even glancing up from his lap.

“It doesn’t hurt to ask,” she replies, and for a fleeting second, you feel a horrid sense of guilt for your actions. “So, how about it? It’ll be fun, the four of us doing something together besides movie night, as a family.” She smiles wide, eyes moving between you and Bobby sitting next to you, engrossed in a stupid game on his cell as he picks at his toast.

Hiking? Really? The last thing you need is to see Sam in lycra hiking gear, working up a sweat. Yeah, hard fucking pass.

_ Beads of sweat collect along his forehead as you gaze up at him through thick eyelashes. With his eyes squeezed shut, his bottom lip is almost white as his teeth gnaw into it. His grip on the crown of your head almost hurts now, pushing against you as you suck up his length, forcing you to swallow him down without a moment to catch your breath. His cock keeps catching the back of your throat and you gag around him, your reflex not quite suppressed enough yet regardless of how hard Dean has been training you. _

_ “Shit baby girl, soon I’ll be able to shove my dick so far down your throat, I’ll feel it right here.” Dean’s voice rattles around inside your brain, the ghost of his fingers smoothing down the column of your throat and the smile on his face thick with glee. His words seem to spur you on, taking Sam back further and further until he’s repeatedly cursing above you. He takes control then, both hands grasping either side of your head as he holds it stationery and begins to fuck your throat raw like a man possessed. _

_ The way his hips snap makes your panties damp, wishing that every thrust into your mouth was aimed a little further south, right into your waiting pussy. All you can do is kneel between Sam’s thighs, your hands holding onto his taut muscles for dear life and take the full force of his cock choking the life out of you while the moans he makes are practically pornographic. _

“Thanks Mom, but I’ve got loads of studying to catch up. Maybe next time?” You explain apologetically as the sight of Sam looking up catches your eye, the word ‘studying’ drawing his attention. You can tell by the way he glares at you, he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying and grunts under his breath.

_Sam’s_ _thrusts_ _slowly deepen and you can tell he’s got to be close. You’ve sucked Dean’s dick enough times now to at least be aware of the telltale signs of when he’s about to come. Dean goes as stiff as a board, unable to even speak as he shoots his load. Sam, on the other hand, comes with a deep, knee-jerking grunt, your name wrapped around the end of it. He almost spasms beneath you as his salty release paints the back of your throat white._

She accepts your apology with a smile before standing to start clearing plates away, instructing Sam to take Bobby and begin packing the car. Bobby rolls his eyes, muttering something about it not being fair that you’re not being forced to go, as Sam slowly follows him from the room with a soft laugh. He stalls in the doorway for a moment, poised as if he’s about to say something but refrains, instead shooting you a dark, hooded look that makes your cunt ache.

-

As they finish sorting the car, trying to make every piece of hiking equipment fit, you watch on from the porch occasionally catching Sam’s eye when he thinks you aren’t looking. You start to play up to it - licking your lips whenever you feel his eyes on you and when you notice his jaw tighten after the ninth or tenth time, you know it’s working.

They eventually climb into the mud-splattered jeep, Sam at the wheel and all you can think about is riding his lap as you wave them off, the heat between your thighs almost unbearable.

You trundle back into the house by yourself, bypassing the option to make the most of the giant TV and Netflix subscription and straight up to your bedroom, hoping to orgasm your frustration away .

-

You slam the door of the cab, and on shaky legs, stumble the path up to the apartment block in front of you, seeking out the familiarity of number 67. It seems like a lifetime before you reach it, recalling the unsteady walk, like a dream where you don’t quite reach your destination before you wake. The faded red door finally greets you and lifting your hand, you rap lightly on the door and impatiently wait. The volume of the TV lowers, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps. The door creaks open and Dean appears from behind it, a smirk plastered across his lips as he registers you.

The time alone at home failed to sate you, believing your level of desperation would result in a toe-curling release, but your body decided to punish you with the most unfulfilling climax, leaving you more frustrated than ever.

You needed more than a toy or your fingers. You needed to be ruined, fucked until it hurt to walk. And that’s what led you straight to Dean’s door.

“Well aren’t you a fuckin’ sight for sore eyes,” he whistles, hand already palming against his sweats. “Come to spend some quality time with your Uncle Dean, have ya?”

You step inside and pull him towards you, crashing your lips hard against his. His hands are everywhere as you reach into his sweats, palming his cock through his boxers before pulling away just long enough to request one thing from him: “Fuck me.”

-

Raising your pelvis, you try to silently coax Dean into going faster without the need for words. You think you have all this dirty talk nailed when you’re texting him, but as soon as you see him face to face you stumble, paranoid you’ll say something to make him realise just how immature and inexperienced you are.

“Not gonna do what you want until you ask” he grins, picking up on the subtle roll of your hips. You let out a frustrated groan through closed lips, but Dean just snickers at your tiny tantrum and brings a hand up to your jaw, stilling your head in place while he continues to drive himself inside you. “Don’t start getting bratty with me baby girl ‘cause y’know I’ll stop and you don’t want that do ya?”

You shake your head with a heavy sigh. “Harder De,” you keen, fisting the damp sheets below you. “You gotta fuck me harder, please.”

“That’s my good girl,” Dean growls, hips snapping in compliance as his grip loosens around your jaw before letting it slip away completely. He falls back on his heels, fingers biting into the skin on your thighs as he impales you on his length before sliding you back off again. “Shit. You should see how wet you are baby, pussy’s practically paintin’ my cock white.”

A familiar buzzing perforates the sound of Dean’s hips slapping wetly against your thighs and instinctively you move up onto your elbows, attempting to reach for your cell, but Dean has other ideas.

“Leave it, princess,” Dean coos, refusing to let up. He pushes you back onto the bed, hand splayed across your stomach.

“But it could be my mom,” you protest. “Or Sam.”

“Worried Sammy might find out his little angel ain’t so pure?” He purrs, reaching up and gives your nipple a bordering on painful tug. The sudden twist of flesh makes a bubble of heat travel down your body and settles thick in your core, right where Dean is concentrating all of his attention.

You both attempt to ignore the vibrating, but it continues long and distracting against the wood of Dean’s nightstand. It quickly stops, silence falling upon the room momentarily as the noise of your whimpers takes over, but the buzzing starts up again, this time coming from Dean’s cell. 

He gives up and sighs, reaching across to pick it up with a wide smile. “Looks like you were right baby, Daddy does wanna hear Uncle Dean giving it to ya just… like… this.”

His thrusts match the last three words causing a ragged scream to rip from your throat. “No—no De, he... he doesn’t know I’m here—“

It’s too late. Dean answers, shoving his cell back onto the nightstand and casually greets his brother. “Hey Sammy, what’s up?”

Sam’s voice responds crackly and you realise Dean’s put you on fucking speaker. Shit.  _ “You haven’t seen Y/N recently, have you?” _

“No dude, is everythin’ alright?” Dean replies, nonchalant as he lifts your legs over one shoulder, altering his angle inside you. Your eyes roll at the sudden shift and bite down on your bottom lip, desperately stifling the moans that try to escape.

_ “Yeah, I mean...”  _ Sam trails off and static follows. _ “I don’t know. I’m worried about her, she’s getting outta control.” _

Dean looks down at you, eyebrow raised and a smirk curling up his lips. “Outta control huh?” He mouths as the rhythm of his hips rapidly increases. Legs dropping either side of him, your thighs curl around his waist and he delivers six or seven deep-seated thrusts that just about finish you off. You arch your back, trying to swallow down a groan and he notices, quickly shoving a hand over your mouth.

_ “Dean? You there?” _

“Yeah, sorry, ‘m here,” he calls to Sam before turning his attention back to you with a hushed whisper. “Gonna have to be real quiet for me, princess.”

_ “You busy? Shall I call back?” _

“Nah, it’s all good man. Just working on Baby. I tell ya Sammy, ‘m tryin’ to fit this new pipe and it’s a damn tight fit,” he grins down at you wickedly and you grit your teeth at the sleazy remark.

“Shit, you should hear her purr when I’m done.” Fuck, why is this turning you on so much?

Dean’s spare hand slides between you and begins circling his thumb over your clit, round and round in a perfect clockwise motion until you’re practically splintering around his cock.

He’s still going. “Y’know, I should teach ya how to take care of my girl one day.”

With the drop in his voice, the double entendres, the increased pressure on your clit and the now slow but deliberate thrusts managing to catch every nerve as Dean pulls out, you come hard, your muffled screams falling silent against his palm.

“Gotta warn ya though, you’ll need a firm hand,” Dean continues, flashing you a filthy grin as his hips snap harder, drawing out your orgasm until it rolls over into another, your body seizing beneath him. “She just  _ loves _ to play up.”

You sag against the mattress, veins flooded with euphoria as you hear Sam’s now terse voice float back into your periphery. _ “Yeah, that’s great and all Dean, but I need a little help here. What shall I do about Y/N?” _

“Hm, come to think of it, she has been a bit bratty lately.” Another cocky smile. “Want me to have a word?”

_ “Are you sure? You don’t have to get involved in my family drama.” _

“Oh, I’m already deep in your family, Sammy.” You couldn’t wipe the smirk off Dean’s face if you tried.

-

Sam hangs up, feeling a little better. Knowing Dean would speak to Y/N and hopefully talk some sense into her makes him breathe a huge sigh of relief - she always listens to Dean. He makes a mental note to ask him what his trick is while slipping his cell into a pocket on his rucksack, hoisting the over-equipped bag back onto his shoulders just as Audrey and Bobby call out to him in unison.

_ “Last one to the checkpoint is a rotten egg!” _

He smiles deeply, taking a swig from the canteen hanging around his neck and begins trekking along the path behind them. The weight on his shoulders is distracting for a time, but it doesn’t take long for his mind to wander back to the picture she claims she sent accidentally, which in turn leads him to the memory of Y/N on her knees, her pretty little mouth stretched around his cock.

He unashamedly remembers how frightened she seemed when she first saw how big he was, those big fucking doe eyes making her look like butter wouldn’t melt. God, he had just wanted to pull her into his lap and fuck her bratty little brains out when she did that. And the way his stomach exploded with heat watching her splutter as he fucked her throat raw, and he damn near  _ craved _ to wipe off the satisfied expression on her face when she got to her feet, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

But as he catches up to Audrey and Bobby, he can’t help but wonder how she learnt to suck a cock quite like that? And, more worryingly, how could she possibly know Audrey never did such a thing?

Because the only person who knows that is Dean.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied, I think this might be my favourite chapter to date, ha!

Even though they won’t be back from hiking for hours, Dean still drops you at the end of the street, the Impala extremely conspicuous in the middle of your suburban neighbourhood, no doubt causing your nosey neighbours’ curtains to twitch. You limp the short walk home, pussy still smarting and a familiar heat has settled thickly between your thighs from the amount of orgasms Dean coaxed from you at your request.

You reach the front door and let yourself in, sighing with content as you aim to nap for a couple of hours in the luxury of a silent house. You slip your sneakers off with each opposing foot and give your back a stretch as a yawn escapes your lips before turning on the spot to head upstairs as Sam appears in the kitchen doorway.

“Holy sh—“ you yell, bringing your hand up to your chest as your heart thuds against your rib cage. “You scared the crap outta me.” He doesn’t respond, merely stands watching you, arms folded across his chest and a scowl on his face. “I didn’t know you were home already.”

“Bobby sprained his ankle. He’s at the ER with your mom,” he explains stoically, arms dropping to his sides as he steps into the hall and closer to you.

“Oh god, is he okay? Why didn’t you call me?”

“I tried. Many times.”

You already know he tried; the proof showing in the dozens of missed calls and voicemails littering your notifications. After Sam had called, Dean had your cells switched off, not wanting to be interrupted again.

“Sorry, I—“

“Where have you been?” He inquires, cutting you off.

“I just went out for some air.”

“For three hours?”

“Three... hours...” You trail off, hesitantly looking at your watch and realising it’s a little past seven. You’d well and truly fucked your day away. “I had no idea I was out that long.”

Sam’s eyes narrow and it’s the same scrutinising look on his face again, the same one that shows he doesn’t believe a damn word you’re saying. “Well, you’re lucky your mom isn’t here otherwise she would’ve called the cops hours ago.”

“And you were, what, just hoping I’d turn up eventually?” You spit, trying to turn the situation around on him to cover up your own guilt.

“I was hoping you were lying to me and it turns out my faith didn’t fail me after all.”

You roll your eyes. “Whatever. Believe what you want.” You turn to make for the stairs as Sam lunges towards you, grabbing you by the arm. “Ow,” you cry at the pinching grip he has on you, “that hurts.”

His spearmint shower gel wafts under your nose and the smell of it makes your thighs clench as your toes curl into the expensive carpet beneath your feet. You struggle against him, but he soon brings his other hand to grab at you, boxing you in between his broad chest and the wall behind you. You refuse to make eye contact, choosing to look down at the floor knowing if you return the stare burning a hole into your skin, you’ll be itching to fall to your knees to suck his cock again.

“I’m going to find out what you’re hiding eventually, Y/N,” Sam seethes deeply and you dare yourself to cast a glance back at him, finding his eyes dark and full of ire. The kind of darkness that causes your entire body to quake with fervour.

“And then what? I’ll be in ‘big trouble’? ‘Cause that worked so well the last time you threatened me,” you mutter derisively.

His jaw tightens to the point you think it might snap, your gaze lingering a little too long on his lips before flicking your lashes back up to meet his stare.

“Give me your phone,” he orders, letting go of your arms and puts a hand out between you.

“Why?”

“I’ve had enough of you trying to pull the wool over my eyes and we’ve let your attitude slide for long enough. You take your mom and I for granted so I’m taking away your privileges.”

“You can’t do that.”

“Yes I fucking can,” he admonishes and heat bubbles in your stomach, a lethal combination of anger and arousal. You huff overdramatically, fishing into the back pocket of your shorts and slam your cell into the palm of his hand. “Thank you.” His fingers curl around it and quickly slips into the pocket of his sweats. “And I’ll have your laptop too.”

“Why do you need my laptop?” You question.

“It’s a privilege you no longer have any need for. I take Bobby’s Xbox and phone when he misbehaves, it’s only fair you get the same punishment.” His voice is cold now, almost detached and it frightens you more than when he raises it.

You push yourself onto tiptoes, one hand pressed against his chest while the other slides down towards his crotch. Lips grazing his, you whisper, “what about if I wanna suck your cock? Gonna take that privilege away from me too, Daddy?”

You’ve never seen him look so pissed off. He charges at you, hand tightly wrapped around your throat as he slams you hard against the wall. His nose pressed firm against your cheek, you can feel his ragged breath fanning over your neck making you shiver in his grasp. “I was gonna let you keep your freedom, but seeing as you’re so hellbent on questioning my authority, you’ve just lost that too.”

“You’re grounding me?” You scoff through choked breaths.

“For two weeks,” Sam confirms. “Now, go get your laptop before I force you up the fucking stairs myself.” He pushes away, allowing you the room to move and for a moment you stare each other out as if it were a Mexican stand-off. “Y/N now. Don’t make me ask you twice.”

You’re usually far too stubborn, but the way Sam looks at you - like he could murder you at any moment - causes you to snap first.

You stomp up the stairs like a two year old in the midst of a tantrum, hands balled into fists at your sides as you grizzle and scream from behind closed lips. Storming into your room, it takes all of your resolve not to drop to the floor and bang your fists against the carpet. You snatch up your laptop, forgetting about the power cable still plugged in at the wall until the torque becomes too great and yanks out of the socket with a loud thud.

Stamping back down the stairs, Sam greets you at the bottom, hands on his hips and you wanna throw the damn thing at his face.

“See, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He sneers, taking it from you. He turns to walk away as a patronising smile starts to show.

“You’re a fucking asshole!” You shout, hot tears running down your cheeks. You hate him. You fucking  _ hate _ him.

“Watch your language or I’ll make it a month,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Aah, I hate you!” You scream back, running up the stairs to your room. Collapsing on your bed, you’re too angry to do anything else except yell into your pillow until you fall asleep, exhausted.

-

As Sam hears Y/N slam her bedroom door, he lets out the deep breath he’s been holding in. He shakily places her laptop down on the kitchen island and leans his palms flat against the marble, attempting to steady himself. He’s had his fair share of confrontations, especially in his profession, but this one has torn his nerves to shreds.

The way she pushed against him at every request, forcing his hand to the point he  _ laid _ his hands on her; it made his blood boil, but at the same time had made him so unbelievably hard, desperate to push her to her knees and make her suck his cock again just so she’d shut her mouth.

He closes his eyes and inhales deeply, internally battling with his conscience before making a decision and heads for the front door.

He needs to get out of the house.

-

Sam drives mindlessly for a while, knowing he should be home for Audrey and Bobby when they get back but he can’t stay there while she is. He doesn’t trust himself around her any more, amazed he was able to stop himself from bending her over the kitchen counter and fucking her like the spoilt little cunt she is.

He debates hitting a few bars, but the idea of heading back to the house with liquid courage in his veins would only make things worse. He just needs some familiar company to take his mind off of the throbbing in his pants.

Sam parks up in the visitors space, pulling his permit from the glove compartment and slides it onto the dash as he exits the car, careful not to open the door too wide in case he prangs the side of Baby and ends up forking out a hundred bucks to get it fixed.

He strides across the parking lot and rushes up the stairs, taking two at a time before finally reaching apartment 67, the sound of Led Zeppelin dully muted through the wall. Sam gives the door a quick knock and patiently waits for an answer.

Dean opens it only moments later, swigging from a half-empty beer bottle. “Couldn’t stay away coul— Oh shit, Sammy hey.”

“Couldn’t stay away huh?” Sam smirks. “Someone’s clearly been working on more than just Baby today.”

“You could say that.” He replies, taking another gulp of beer as he moves back to allow Sam to enter. “If I knew you were comin”, I’da got some more beers in.”

“Sorry, I woulda called but I needed to get out of the house,” Sam explains stepping inside. “Y/N, she... ugh.” He grits his teeth, unable to vocalise just how much she infuriates him while at the same wanting to do unspeakable things to her. He turns to face his brother, front door clicking closed as Dean shuts it.

“Being a brat huh?”

“You have no idea.” Sam shakes his head. “It’s like she knows exactly what buttons to push.” He slumps on the couch with a heavy sigh as Dean disappears into the kitchen before returning with a fresh beer and hands it to him. “I’m hoping you’ll be able to talk some sense into her.”

Dean shrugs. “I mean, I’ll do what I can dude.”

“If you could just get her to change her whole damn attitude that’d be great.” He takes a large sip of beer, the cold crisp liquid helping to douse the heat still sitting thick in the pit of his stomach.

“Shame you can’t take her over your knee and give that tight little ass a spank,” Dean scoffs before draining the last of his beer.

“Dude,  _ seriously _ , you gotta stop with that shit,” Sam chastens, his jeans suddenly tightening at the thought. “She’s my step-daughter.”

“C’mon, you’re telling me you’ve never busted one out in the shower thinking about her? Imagined it’s her instead of Auds?”

_ Yes I have. All the time. I came down her throat once too. _ “You’re sick,” Sam bites back a little too defensively. Maybe being here wasn’t better than being at home after all. But at least here he’s unable to act on the things he wishes he could do to her or the positions he aches to manipulate her into.

Dean laughs, swiftly changing the subject and nods towards Sam’s hand. “Better nurse that beer, last one I got. Unless you want me to run to the store?”

“Nah it’s fine, I should probably get home after this,” he sighs deeply, taking another swig. “Try and rectify this mess somehow.”

Dean huffs and heads to the door, picking up his keys. “Liquor store is down the street, I’m going to get more beer, no arguments.”

-

As Dean leaves, Sam sags further into the couch in an attempt to get comfortable, anything to get rid of the headache that’s starting to pulse in his forehead, but something digs sharply against the side of his thigh. He wriggles in the spot for a moment in the hopes it’ll shift by itself, but it just prods harder against his skin. Giving up, he shoves his hand down between the couch cushions, fingers finally meeting something fragile. He drags it up between his fingertips, the dainty metal twinkling as it catches light hanging above him.

He smirks at the implication, more shocked that he’s not surprised to find a necklace lost in the midst of Dean’s couch. His brother slept with plenty of women, it could belong to any one of them. He lets it pour into a silver puddle in his palm as his eyes really register the oversized heart sitting on top of the broken chain.

Wait. He knows this necklace. He flips it over between his fingertips to confirm it; eyes landing on Y/N’s late father’s initials engraved on the back. She never takes it off.

She told Audrey she lost it at school. He remembers how upset she was the day she came home without it, almost distraught to the point of inconsolable.

Sam knows she spends a lot of time here as does Bobby so it wouldn’t be unusual for her to have lost it here. But something in the back of his mind doesn’t quite sit right.

When Dean returns with a new case of beer twenty minutes later, Sam doesn’t mention it; its discovery entirely coincidental, but it still doesn’t stop the heart shaped necklace from burning a hole in his pocket for the rest of the night.

-

It’s early morning when the cab drops Sam off at home, despite Dean’s protests to have him crash on the couch. He needed to get home and put his suspicions to rest once and for all. What he was thinking was absurd, entirely delusional.

He lets himself in quietly, careful not to wake the sleeping household and sneaks to the kitchen, swiping up Y/N’s laptop before noticing a note from Audrey laid on top of it, his eyes lazily skimming over her fancy handwriting.

_ “Sam. I left you a message but just in case you didn’t get it - I’ve gone back to the hospital to be with Bobs. They think he might have concussion from the fall too so they’re keeping him overnight just to be safe. I spoke with Y/N and she told me what happened... we’ll talk in the morning. Love you, A x” _

He places the note back onto the counter with a deep breath and heads to his study.

-

Booting up her laptop, it quickly whirrs to life and the image of her hugging Janey tightly loads up as the background, Sam’s eyes honing in on the heart shaped necklace hanging between her breasts.  _ Shit, focus. _ He lingers too long on the way she’s smiling, a hint of innocence twinkling in her eye and his cock throbs.

Normally he would’ve started by looking on her cell, but knowing it’s no doubt passcode protected or face recognition needed, he doesn’t want her asking questions as to why he needs access to it. As far as Y/N’s concerned, he’s just holding onto it - not to look into her odd behaviour and the scepticism surrounding the coincidences Sam can’t seem to shake.

He’s done his fair share of digging in his time as a lawyer, heading straight for her shared iCloud drive knowing that is the best place to start looking for any incriminating evidence, especially if it’s already been removed from her cell. The folder opens and hundreds upon hundreds of photos pop up; screenshots of messages, memes that are relevant to her but make zero sense to Sam, dozens of photos of her and Janey, photos of her with other people Sam doesn’t recognise, a bunch of photos of her with Audrey, some with or without with Bobby and some even include Sam himself.

He clicks on one picture; a selfie taken only a few months ago at movie night. Y/N’s curled up against his side, Audrey on his other and Bobby leans over the back of the sofa posing with a silly face. They’re all smiling and Sam can’t help but grin at the image, remembering how happy they were then. How carefree those nights used to be, the one time a week where they shut out the world and only the four of them mattered. Sam sighs deeply, closing the picture down as another cluster in the camera roll catches his attention.

He recognises one as the one she sent him, the reflection of her bare cunt in the mirror imprinted in his memory forever, but the others are unfamiliar. She’s in all different colours of underwear and in most, several stages of undress. Her pert little tits are visible in many and as Sam continues scrolling, her pussy is too. He clicks on one, intrigue getting the better of him and she’s laying on her bed, legs spread wide with her fingers glistening with slick from the way they’re positioned, holding her lips apart.

Sam takes a deep breath, stunned at the sight of her in such an intimate, yet vulnerable position. He wants to look away and slam the laptop closed, but the voyeur in him keeps staring. He always knew her cunt would be perfect and here it was proving him right, completely clean and shaven. He licks his lips as his eyes trail over the wetness clinging to her fingertips, envisioning how sweet she’d taste on the tip of his tongue. How tight she’d feel around his finger while he fucked her with it, walls contracting as he made her cum, lips suckling against her clit.

He fidgets in his chair, cock stiffening as his palms begin to sweat.  _ Control yourself _ , his brain chides and he quickly clicks off the photo. Several more follow and he doesn’t need to see bigger than the preview to address the fact they document her masturbating. He hovers over one, debating to open it up when the image below diverts his attention. It’s a video; the little play symbol covering most of the thumbnail.

_ Don’t do it Sam _ , his conscience pipes up and for a moment he scrolls right on past, but his fingers have other ideas, sliding back over the mousepad and double clicks. It doesn’t play automatically but now the image is larger, Sam can make out her naked body sprawled out on a bed. It’s not hers; the quilt set beneath her screams distinctly male and for that, Sam’s oddly relieved. The thought of her having sex with someone else on the same bed she sucked his cock on made him reel with jealousy.

He knows he’s seen too much already, but instead of doing the right thing and switching it off, Sam reaches for his headphones and places them into the jack. With shaky hands, he clicks play and his chest heaves waiting for it to load, blood thundering in his ears.

The screen is black initially and Sam only hears her first. Soft, sweet moans bleeding from her lips combined with the dull sound of skin slapping against skin that slowly get louder as the second tick by. The hairs on the back of Sam’s neck stand as the camera begins to lose opacity and the picture eventually comes into focus.

She’s facing away from the lens, on all fours with her ass high in the air. Sam stiffens in his seat, watching her skin ripple as the person behind fucks into her, one hand on her curved hip, pulling her back onto his cock with jarring precision. 

_ “Yes, oh god, right there,” _ she cries out.  _ “Mmhm.” _

_ “You like that, huh?” _ The man replies breathlessly and Sam’s ears prick up at the deep timber of it, unable to place it just as the camera points down between the two conjoined bodies.

Sam’s distracted as the man’s cock disappears back and forth inside Y/N and each time he pulls his hips away, his dick is smothered in her juices. The noise of her pussy is obscene; pure and filthy wet sucking noises and Sam almost turns it off, cock hard to the point it’s bordering on painful.

He can’t watch any more. He  _ shouldn’t _ watch any more.

_ “Look at yourself baby girl, takin’ me from behind like a dirty little slut.” _

That voice. He knows it.  _ It’s... it can’t be. It can’t be. It can’t be _ , Sam repeats over and over in his head until the camera pans up to the mirror, giving Sam the perfect view of her face. Her eyes stare straight ahead and Sam feels like she’s looking right through the mirror, camera and into his soul. Her lips part as she groans, her body shunting forward with each deep thrust. The image shifts up further, Y/N’s lover coming into view, his lips curled up into a devilish smirk and as Sam’s eyes land on him, the blood drains from his face with unparalleled fury.

_ Dean. _


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Sam marries into Y/N's family he naively believes she's a little princess incapable of putting a step wrong. But once he comes face to face with evidence that proves she's far from angelic which also implicates his own brother in her misdeeds, Sam finds himself battling against his own moral judgement.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took so much out of me, I hope it doesn't suck. This is also my (overdue) entry to @deanwanddamons's 1K follower challenge over on Tumblr and my prompt is highlighted in bold.

Sam sits watching, unable to turn away. He watches Dean fuck her from behind, pausing momentarily to pull her up by her elbows so her back is flush against his chest before continuing his onslaught. The camera angles towards the mirror until she’s panting that she’s close and Dean turns it to face them.

She takes up nearly the entire screen, Dean’s face coming into shot just over her right shoulder and whispers something barely discernible to Sam into her ear as she cums violently, her screams making Sam’s balls tighten.

Sam palms his swelling cock through the fabric of his jeans, shaft practically throbbing at the friction as he shuts his eyes, losing himself in the sound of her moans before Dean’s voice cuts through them.

_ “That’s it, c’mon, open your eyes baby.” _ Sam’s eyes flicker open, watching as hers do the same, eyelids straining against the sheer force of her orgasm.

_ “See how hot you look cumming for your Uncle Dean,” _ Dean mutters against the column of her throat and she whines, biting down on her bottom lip.

Sam’s seen enough, pure anger flooding his veins as his hand leaves his lap and closes down the video. He places his hand on the back of the laptop, preparing to slam it closed when he notices other videos scattered through her camera roll.  _ You have your evidence, no need to wind yourself up even more _ , his brain tries to reason but his curiosity gets the better of him. He skims over a handful until he settles on one, relatively short at only thirty seconds, the background recognisable as Dean’s living room and Sam’s skin begins to crawl as he registers the date as only five days ago. One of the nights she was supposedly ‘studying.’

He presses play and instantly regrets it.

Y/N’s head is shoved between the couch cushions, her yells muffled as her body moves in time with what Sam assumes are Dean’s thrusts. Dean’s hand is wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her down as his grunts overpower all other noise.

_ “Wanna act like a brat, you get fucked like one.” _

Her reply is muffled so Sam can’t make it out, but he hears Dean laugh huskily from behind the camera.

He’s rougher with her this time and part of Sam wants to swoop in and save her, but the other half of him wishes himself into his brother’s place, aching to slap the slutty little smirk off her face as Dean pulls her up by her hair and hands her the camera.

Dean disappears from view as she concentrates the camera entirely onto her and Sam’s eyes divert to the intact silver chain swinging from her chest. The same one now broken and sitting on his desk.

-

Laptop in hand and necklace shoved back into his jean pocket, Sam storms up the stairs two at a time and rushes across the landing until he reaches her room, not even pausing to knock.

He barges inside, door crashing open as she bolts upright in bed and hurriedly switches on her bedside lamp. Genuine fear is thick across her face until it morphs into anger at the realisation it’s Sam standing in her doorway.

“What the fuck? Come to take my bed away too ‘cause sleepin’s a  _ privilege _ ?” She mutters groggily, rubbing her eyes.

“Are you sleeping with Dean?”

“De—Dean wh— your brother Dean? Uncle Dean?  _ Ew _ .” She screws her nose up and looks disgusted.

_ Damn, she’s a good actress. _ If Sam didn’t know the truth, he’d almost be fooled by her.  _ Almost. _

Sam reaches into his pocket and drags the necklace clear, letting it dangle from his fingertips. “Lose something precious at Uncle Dean’s, did we?”

-

Your necklace hangs between Sam’s thick fingers, swaying delicately from side to side as if to taunt you. “Lose something precious at Uncle Dean’s, did we?”

_ That’s not the only precious thing I lost _ , your thoughts bluntly counter.

Jumping out of bed, you rush over to him. “Oh god, I’m so glad you found it!” You exclaim, trying to grab at it, but he pulls it away from your grasp and above his head where you can’t possibly reach. “What the hell—“

“Are you involved with my brother?”

“Fuck sake, stop asking me that— I told you no,” you bite back. Sam practically bulldozes past you, dumps your laptop onto your bed and opens it up quickly. The screen loads and the preview of a video appears. Fuck, no. He clicks on the mousepad and it begins to play.

Your face comes into focus, smirking at the camera as the sound of Dean’s grunts fills the room. You look away, already knowing how the video ends and visibly wince waiting for it—

_ “Put that thing down and get on your fuckin’ knees, wanna cum all over that pretty face.” _

It stops abruptly and you glance back as Sam quickly opens another, this time you’re situated between Dean’s knees sucking his cock, the glug of your throat loud and obtrusive through the speakers. You watch yourself, looking up into the camera, eyes wide and bambi-like as you hear Dean gruffly praising you, his words laced with amusement.

_ “If only you could see ya'self baby girl, choking around your Uncle’s big dick. So fuckin’ pretty.” _

Dean’s hand comes into view, cupping your cheek almost lovingly before it finds its way to the top of your head, grabbing your ponytail. His thrusts begin slow and deliberate, but Sam stops the video before you are subjected to the visionary memory of Dean’s furious throat fucking.

“Wanna rethink your answer yet?” Sam questions, loading another before pressing play.

This one is the roughest of them all. You remember the night like it was yesterday and the bruises that flowered after it, but the video starts well before Dean descends into the spanking and bondage. This time, the camera is set up properly— angled in the perfect position to catch every moment and the wide shot means you see  _ everything _ .

You’re on top— reverse cowgirl— as Dean holds your hips, your palms propped up against his chest. It’s a sight to behold; watching Dean fuck up into you as if you’re not the girl in the video, the voyeur in you getting more and more turned on as the seconds tick by.

The heat coiling in your belly becomes too much and you rush to slam the laptop closed, but Sam’s too quick. He grabs your wrists and flips you around so your back sits flush against his hard chest.

“Get the fuck off me,” you whine as he forces you over the bed, one hand snaking up your back and around a fistful of hair to hold your head firmly in place while the other easily pins your wrists against the base of your spine. You’re trapped.

“Not yet, we’ve got a little impromptu movie night to get through first,” he seethes from behind you.

The grip he has in your hair keeps you steady, your eyes firmly planted on the scene unfolding in front of you, your pussy prickling with warmth at the memory. You shift into his crotch, trying to relieve even just an ounce of pressure building behind your clit.

Sam scoffs. “Someone likes watching themselves get fucked like a dirty little slut, don’t they?”

“Feels like you’re enjoying it too, Daddy.” You smirk, feeling him harden further. 

Sam bristles at your words, his fist tightening and you hiss through gritted teeth at the sharp tug at your roots. He doesn’t confirm or deny your statement, but he doesn’t need to. His silence and the rigidity of his cock against your ass speaks volumes.

Staring at the screen, you’re hypnotised by Dean’s dick disappearing in and out of you as the sound of you moaning drowns out the little whimper that escapes your throat.

“Look how wet you were,” Sam observes.

Your eyes divert to the glistening slick amassing between your thighs as Dean pushes you off his lap and flips you onto your back so he can lap at your cunt. You remember him praising you the whole time he was down there— can hear him muttering through the speakers, but the words are muted from the blood pounding in your ears and all you can concentrate on is the rapid swell of Sam’s cock against your backside.

“I bet you’re wet right now.” It’s not a question.

Your mind is cloudy, muddled with such fervour that you can barely think straight, but the words still manage to spill across your tongue in a lust-dumb stupor. “Why don’t you find out for yourself?”

On the screen, Dean’s still tongue deep in your pussy, your thighs visibly trembling with the weight of the orgasm he’s just coaxed from you. Sam tugs harder on your scalp, yanking your head back to sit flush against your shoulders as he bends over you, his lips grazing the shell of your ear. “That’s what you’ve wanted this whole time, isn’t it?”

“Yes, Daddy.”

Sam growls so deeply into your ear, you feel the vibrations pinball down your spine and settle heavily in your core. He lets go of your wrists, hand smoothing over the satin seat of your shorts before edging its way between your legs causing your breath to catch in your throat, his fingertips no doubt feeling the saturated material clinging to the folds of your cunt.

He lets out another strained moan as you wiggle against the pressure of his fingers through the damp seam of your lips, anything to try and stimulate the ache in your clit. Sam’s grip at your skull suddenly falters and your head drops to the mattress, a dull throb pulsing at the base of your neck. The hand that held your head up joins the other at your waist before finding their way to the waistband of your shorts and tug hard at the material, letting the soft satin fabric slip over the curves of your ass, finally exposing you completely to Sam.

“Fuck,” he whispers from behind you and the familiar sound of jeans unzipping drowns out the sound of your moans coming from the video. You shift your head just enough to glance up at the screen— finding yourself back on top of Dean, this time now facing him so the shot the camera hones in on is of your pussy taking a pounding as your ass ripples from the force of Dean’s thrusts.

Sam pulls away momentarily and you tilt your gaze just enough to look at him as he tugs his t-shirt over his head, revealing his taut torso and your cunt clenches at the sight. You notice small beads of sweat clinging to the dip at the base of his neck and you have to swallow thickly, mouth suddenly starved of moisture. Sam moves back into position and this time brings with him pulsing heat from the head of his cock pushing against your entrance.

You can feel his fist against your ass, guiding himself into you while the other is prepped around your hip to maintain precision and the husky grunt that tumbles from Sam’s lips as he finally slides inside you is damn right sinful.

It’s such a tight fit, you can feel the girth of his cock literally manipulating your walls to fit.

“Oh  _ shit _ ,” you hiss as Sam presses further.

“Sweetheart, I’m not even halfway in yet,” he patronises with a laugh.  _ Only halfway? _ You blanch, your pussy already feeling stretched to its fullest capacity. “C’mon, look at you taking all of my brother’s cock.” 

Your attention draws back to the laptop and this time Dean is fucking you from behind, pulling all the way out before slamming his way home. Watching Dean annihilate you so mercilessly coupled with the stretch of your step-daddy’s cock barely inside you, you can practically feel your slick dripping out around him and onto the pink carpet below you.

“If he can fit inside you then I damn well can too.” Sam surges forward with one sharp thrust and the punch to your cervix almost knocks the wind out of you. His cock feels like it’s in your fucking stomach.

“Uhh,” you groan into the bedsheets as his pelvis lays flush against your ass.

Sam’s hand traces softly under your satin vest and up your spine, delicate goosebumps breaking out over your skin resulting in your walls beginning to relax around him.

“That’s it, let me in princess,” he soothes.

The way Sam opens you up like a flower coming into bloom; it reminds you of the first time you slept with Dean— just  **like a virgin, touched for the very first time.**

He’s slow at first, tentative almost. Like he doesn’t want to break you. But as he fucks you, long and deep, his rhythm increases and every thrust shunts you further across the bed. 

The video playing is long forgotten, but every now and again your moans diluted with the sound of Dean calling your name crosses your periphery, all of your focus on the cock pistoning in and out of you at what feels like a million thrusts per second.

From this angle, Sam hits every pressure point inside you, but when he pulls you up onto your palms, the change in position makes your vision blur and you feel like you’re about to pass out.

Unlike Dean, Sam’s not big on the dirty talk, opting for touch rather than speech. His hands roam your ass, hips and when he covers your body with his own to cup your breasts, you feel like you’re about to break in two from the heft of his cock pressing to depths Dean never manages to reach. But when Sam does whisper things to you, his calculated choice of words manages to elicit the kinds of noises you’ve never heard yourself make before.

“Are you going to be my filthy little girl from now on?” He mutters in hushed tones against your shoulder blade.

“Yes, uh, anything you want Daddy.”

“I want you to come,” he replies rhetorically, hand reaching between the apex of your thighs and his fingers connect with your clit.

The first time you come, you see static— your vision whiting out as screams rip from your throat. The second, you swear your soul leaves your body and by the time Sam pulls your third from you, you’re about ready to cross over, the echo of his perfectly deliberate words still ringing in your ear:  _ “Dean won’t ever fuck you like I can.” _


End file.
